Dearly Beloved
by WhyAye
Summary: Lewis's daughter is getting married! His old mates/OCs Danny and Mack are invited, along with Hathaway and Hobson. Can Lewis put aside his grief at Val's absence long enough to accept a new happiness? One-shot. Lewis/Hobson, but no sex. Of course.


Detective Sergeant James Hathaway sits quietly in the old, stone church, his head bowed. He is trying to listen to the music gently playing but his ears are repeatedly tugged by the two grating voices behind him, growing gradually louder. Geordie voices.

"Enough aboot whether she's wearin' white! If this wasn't church, we'd baste yer backside. So hush yerself."

"It's not regular church, man, we divvn't need to hush."

"Oh, aye, but it would be more agreeable if y'did, okay? Now shut yer gob and be still."

A short silence follows, and Hathaway starts to relax a little. He looks around to see who else is present. He smiles and nods his head at Doctor Laura Hobson, and she approaches and slides into the pew next to him. "James, you look nice."

"As do you, Doctor."

She smiles her thanks. They're both well dressed for the occasion, Hathaway in a black suit, dark royal-blue shirt, and dove-grey, narrow necktie. Hobson is wearing an emerald green, silk cocktail dress; the plunging, halter-style neckline complements her décolletage and the asymmetrical hemline—and her strappy high-heels—set off her rather shapely, bare legs.

"Oi, isn't that the tottie what Robbie fancies? Aw, she's looking champion in that kit. Wouldn't mind getting lost in _her_ Grand Canyon."

"Mack! Shut up!"

With an amused smile, Hobson turns to the two men in the row behind her. "Danny, Mack. Good to see you again."

Danny smiles pleasantly. "Same here, lass."

Mack looks her over. "When are we gonna see you and Robbie up there at the altar, eh?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "Shut _up_, Mack."

She beams at the big man. "You'll have to ask Robbie that question." She turns forward again, smiling to herself. She knows he will, and hopes she's near enough to see the reaction. Hathaway is shaking, silently chuckling to himself over the exchange. She frowns and nudges him with her elbow. "Stop it."

He leans over and whispers. "You're evil."

She feigns offense. "I am _not_ evil!" A pause. "I'm manipulative."

He considers this. "Fair enough."

Hathaway smiles. It's a lovely afternoon and the sun is streaming through the church's brightly-colored windows. James doesn't have a great deal of happiness in his life, not in their line of work. Neither does his senior officer, come to that, and he thinks back months ago to the morning Detective Inspector Robert Lewis fairly skipped into the office, his face shining with joy. James's first reaction was alarm. He'd never seen his boss in such a mood.

* * *

"Sir? What is it?"

Lewis flashes his broadest smile. "It's our Lyn. She's to be married!"

Hathaway, who can only vicariously share such paternal joy, resorts to stating the obvious. "You must be very happy. Nice lad?"

"Oh, aye, he's a real decent bloke. They've been living together for years. Aw, I'm so glad they're making it official. Fifteen May. Hope you're not busy then."

"That's not a very long engagement."

"Aye, it'll be over before we know. Mercifully. But already she's finding it means we don't get to have a ceremony at noon if we want to be wed in a certain little church we fancy." He rolls his eyes. "She's a lass that's used to having her own way about things. She went spare about having to have the ceremony in the late afternoon until I promised her a nice, expensive buffet and party afterward."

Hathaway turns thoughtful. "D'you think this means you'll be a granddad soon? Why else would they suddenly decide to get married?"

It is clear Lewis has _not_ thought of this. "Cor, a granddad? Me?" He frowns a little. "Makes us sound so old."

"Oh, no, Sir. A grandson or granddaughter will make you feel young again."

"Ya think?" His smile starts to return, flits across his lips, and fades again. "How would you know?"

"It's what people say, i'n'it? Anyway, I'm sure it won't happen for a while yet. Lyn and . . . what's his name?"

"Tim."

"Lyn and Tim I'm sure are abstaining until they're legally husband and wife."

Lewis stares at him as if he's from another planet. "Huh. Yeah, right. I'm not _that_ old, Hathaway. I know what goes on when a couple of young people live together without benefit of marriage."

"In that case, you must be happy your daughter will no longer be engaging in extramarital sex."

Lewis scowls. "Don't be mentioning sex and me daughter in the same sentence, alright?" Then he assumes a superior air. "Anyway, it's not _extra_marital sex, Sergeant. It's _a_marital sex." Morse told him that once. And he's never forgotten anything Morse told him.

Hathaway opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. Opens it. Closes it.

Finally, "Dammit, you're right."

The wide smile returns to Lewis's face. "Anyway, even you can't take away me joy today. Our little daughter's found her mate for life. And that's enough for me."

* * *

Remembering that day, Hathaway feels a warmth creeping into his heart. Lewis had been so excited, so happy, so _paternal_. It had been contagious, and James remembers feeling a spillover cheer from those emotions himself.

The music shifts suddenly, becoming more marchlike, and the assembled people turn and stand, looking expectantly toward the rear of the small church. Spontaneously, Hathaway takes Hobson's hand and she turns and smiles at him, squeezing his fingers. _Weddings do funny things to people_, he muses.

The bride enters, radiant, her arm threaded through the arm of her father, also radiant. But Laura sees only Robbie. His delight in the moment is irresistible, and his glow of pride lights his entire being. Laura absorbs and reflects it, glowing herself, as father and daughter walk past. Hathaway observes with a feeling of endearment the doctor's single-minded focus on the older man. _She's really fallen for him_.

The four people standing before the altar recite the age-old phrases, and after Lewis gives his daughter's hand to the happy young man standing there, he turns, kisses her, and withdraws to his place beside his taller son.

"That monstrous tall laddie next to Robbie—is that wee Kenny?"

"Shut up, Mack. A'course that's Kenny."

Suppressing a smile, James recalls his boss's reservations—not ill-founded—about inviting his old mates to the wedding. Yet the two Geordies had been there when Lewis's first-born arrived in the world. Besides, Lewis didn't have many friends or much family to invite. But he hadn't been the only one with an opinion about the wedding plans.

* * *

Lewis slams the phone down and pounds his desk in frustration. "God, Hathaway, she can be so . . . so damned bloody-minded!" He rubs his hand where it smarts, and his eyes dare his sergeant to contradict him.

"What is she insisting on this time, Sir?" Hathaway wants to remind Lewis whose wedding it is, but recognizes bad timing when he sees it.

"She agreed there would be no more than a hundred guests." He rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in the air. "A _hundred _guests, Hathaway! God, I don't even know half these people, but I'm buying them a meal and treating them to a party." He bangs both fists down on his desk in frustration.

"She knows that many people?"

"Well, close enough. The lad's got a big family, and they have a lot of friends. But I'm paying for the damned thing. I'd like a few of me own friends—y'know, all five or six of the people I call 'friend'—to be there, and she gets all huffy that we might have to bump some second cousin or such." He slaps his desk again, with both hands.

Exhaling loudly through his nose, he shakes his head. "She thinks Danny and Mack will embarrass her, I suppose. Danny's her bloody Godfather, he _has_ to be there. And Mack . . . well, I can't invite one and not the other. Anyway, what's a wedding without at least one roaring drunken fool? Those blokes have been with me through . . . okay, not everything, but through a lot of bollocks. I need them there. Damned headstrong little . . ." He leaves the description incomplete.

"I wonder where she gets that from." _Unusual for the boss to curse so much, he must be very frustrated indeed_.

Lewis pulls himself up straighter but the telephone rings, cutting off whatever he was going to say in response. He glares at Hathaway, and picks up the instrument.

"Yeah, _what_?" His expression softens as he listens. "Aw, Pet, I'm sorry, too. Didn't mean to shout . . . No, you're being great, Pet. You've made an old man happy today. _Three_ old men, come to that." He listens a bit longer. "No, no, I want you to have a nice wedding, you know that . . . It'll be here before you know it." Finally, "I love you, too, Pet. Bye."

His mood has changed completely, but he still fires a scowl and points his finger at the sergeant. "Don't provoke me, Hathaway. Between now and the fifteenth of May, I'm right on the edge, the whole time. You got that, Sergeant? The _edge_."

"Sir."

* * *

Sitting now next to his son, Lewis listens to the two young people making profound, fundamental promises in such simple words: _I will_; _I do_. He is thinking about that day when he and Val recited those same words, pledging their love and devotion to each other. After all, that's what people do at weddings, those who are married, or who have been married, or who might have been married. They remember when it was their time, and so Lewis turns that day over in his mind, inspecting it, holding it up to the light. It still shines, clear and pure, that love. He can remember all the words and he recites them in his head along with the young couple until his breath catches at the new cruelty he finds there: _Till death us do part_.

He swallows the hard lump in his throat. Had he known then what an arbitrary length of time that could be, he would have promised his love for a much longer period. _Till your face at last fades from my memory_. Or, _Till I no longer call your name in my dreams_. He clenches his jaw to stop its quivering. His eyes are wet.

His son taps him on the arm and leans down to whisper. "I wish Mum could have been here." Lewis takes the young man's hand and squeezes it once. Then he has to pull out his handkerchief and dab discreetly at his eyes.

Two rows back, Laura bites her lip. She can see him wipe his tears. She wants to hold him, tell him it's alright to cry, that missing Val today is the most natural thing. But he is beyond her reach, as he always is.

Lewis keeps the handkerchief at hand for the rest of the ceremony, employing it when necessary as his sadness ebbs and flows. He has no desire to push his memories aside, and welcomes them despite the melancholy they bring. _It's her only daughter's wedding. She has every right to be present_.

At last the newlyweds kiss and are followed out of the church by Lewis and Tim's parents, who all then form a line to receive the guests. Lyn kisses her father, peering into his eyes. "Dad? Are you alright?" Her earnest look requires an honest answer.

He manages a small smile. "I'll be okay in a bit, Pet." His eyes twinkle a little. "You're married now, Lyn. Don't worry about your old Dad. Go be with your husband." _You never know how little time you may have_.

Nearly a hundred people parade past; Lewis knows very few of them and remembers none of the names. But at last a few familiar faces swim into focus.

"Robbie." Laura busses him on the cheek. "Lyn is beautiful. You must be very proud." But her eyes search his, seeking his sadness.

"Laura! Look at you!" And as his gaze travels up and down, his mood visibly lightens until he smiles broadly and unreservedly. "You're so—"

"Oi! Let's keep the line movin' up there, canny lass! You can snog all you want later."

Lewis peers back at the line and sees his old friend, waiting not so patiently behind his sergeant and Danny. He turns back to Laura. "You look fantastic, Laura. I'll talk to you more at the party, okay?"

"I wouldn't miss it." She winks and moves on to offer her greetings to Tim's parents, and the next person in line takes her place.

"Sir." James puts his hand on Lewis's elbow. "Thanks for inviting me. So far this has been terrific entertainment."

Now that he's with people he knows, Lewis's happiness returns in full measure. "James. Glad you could come. Keep those two Geordie louts away from Doctor Hobson for me, will you?"

Hathaway resists commenting on the possessiveness implied in Lewis's words. "I'll keep her safe as long as she wants to be kept safe. That might not be her plan for the evening." He smothers a smirk at the worry that momentarily crosses the older man's brow.

Lewis good-naturedly takes his ribbing from Danny and Mack and soon after everyone is talking and laughing together in the beautiful gathering room at the small country hotel where Lewis is spending the better part of his year's salary.

Toasts are made and champagne is drunk in response. Lewis delivers a brilliant toast to the new couple. It is funny, sweet, unpretentious, and exactly the right length. Lyn beams at him, Tim sits proudly, and the well-wishers swig their champagne and applaud merrily.

Hobson is sitting next to Hathaway, who is _not_ clapping.

"You wrote that, didn't you?" She half-smiles, knowingly. She is on her second glass of champagne.

"MmmHmm." Hathaway turns and smiles at her. _She's damned attractive in that dress_. He's already on his fourth, but he's still well in control of his motor skills.

"He doesn't deserve you, Laura."

She examines him to see if this is a come-on or something else. He is inscrutable. _Drunk?_

"You're almost right, James. But you have it the wrong way 'round. _I_ don't deserve _him_." She studies the object of their conversation and sighs.

Hathaway puts his arm around her shoulders and shakes his head sadly. He leans in and talks low in her ear. "You've got it bad, Doctor."

"Does it show that much?"

"To me it does. But _him_ you'll have to tell."

She wants to be angry with him but recognizes the truth of his words.

But James isn't done yet. "Not only that, but _he_ has it bad, too. Only, he doesn't even know."

She smiles a little. "This isn't you coming on to me?"

He smiles back. "Not at all, Doctor. I wouldn't dare. Inspector Lewis is far too protective of you."

She sizes him up, her mouth partly open in a half smile. She can tell he's serious, despite the fact that he's teasing her and enjoying it.

"James, stop it." She shakes her head.

Dance music has begun. The newly-married couple take the floor first, then Lewis dances with Lyn.

"He's good, isn't he? Who knew?" Hathaway smirks a bit. Hobson only watches them. "You _are_ planning on dancing with him tonight, right?" There's no question to whom he's referring.

She's glum. "Sure, if he ever gives me a second glance."

James is all concern and caring now. "Don't think he doesn't notice you, Laura. And you look incredible tonight. Go ask him to dance. He won't be glancing anywhere else once he gets his arms around you." Hathaway takes her hands in his. "He needs you, Laura. I don't know if he _wants_ you, necessarily. But he _needs_ you.

She pulls her hands away. "You make it sound so easy. But he'll dance and then he'll walk away."

Hathaway snags another champagne flute as it passes by on a tray. "I've seen his secret glances, Doctor. He wants to let go of his grief and move on but he doesn't know how."

She waves him off with her hand. "James, I'm sorry. But it's all so theoretical. Robbie has never put a hand on me, never shown me any interest, not beyond harmless flirting. As far as I can tell, he's still solidly married to Val." She blinks a couple of times. "I mean, you saw him during the ceremony. His whole body was saying, 'I miss you, Val.'"

Hathaway is shaking his head. "Don't try to compete with Val. You can't, obviously. Just be yourself. You have a big advantage over Val."

Laura cocks her head, interested to hear his theory.

"You're real. He can touch you. And you can touch him."

She casts her eyes downward, considering this.

"Oi! You gonna chat her up all night, man, or can we take her out on the floor for a spin? " Mack looks from one to the other. "Not interruptin' anythin' cosy, are we?"

Laura flushes a little. "Nothing like that, Mack."

"Well. Howay then." He holds out his big hand.

To Hathaway's surprise, she stands up decisively. "Why not?"

Mack is also surprised. "Champion."

And before James can whisper second thoughts, Mack wheels her out on the floor and they disappear among the whirling couples.

"That should be interesting." Danny sets his beer down and takes Laura's empty chair.

Hathaway is still in shock. "I never expected her to accept."

"Divvn't ye now? She's a brainy lass. Take a look at wor Robbie." He nods toward the head table. Lewis is intently watching the activity on the dance floor.

When the music changes to something slower, Lewis stands up and beelines toward Mack and Laura. He taps Mack on the shoulder.

"My turn."

Mack stands back. "Aboot time, man. Get your hands on her, get her dancin' and ask her."

Lewis is puzzled. "Ask her _what_?"

"To marry ya, ya daft pillock! She's perfect for ya."

Lewis's ears turn pink and he stammers the automatic response. "M-m-m-ack! For God's sake, shut up!"

"You're a great bloody fool if ya divvn't." The big man walks away.

Shaking his head, Lewis gathers her up. "C'mon, let's dance." His eyes twinkle a bit. He holds her close, her head rests on his chest. His hands are warm on her bare back. They do little more than sway in time with the music. Lewis feels light and happy, despite Mack's intrusive comments. He closes his eyes and inhales her scent.

* * *

He's twenty-one, and this is the happiest day of his life. Valerie is so beautiful. She shines. They're taking their first dance and he's doing fine, even with everyone watching. Mack, Danny, Jimmy, and all the lads from the station are there, and they're whistling and hooting during the whole dance.

Mack shouts a raunchy suggestion and Val laughs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leans in close to him. "I think we should try that later, Robbie." She gives him a naughty grin.

"I can't wait 'til tonight. I'm so excited that finally we're gonna . . . y'know." He smiles back happily.

"You're not nervous?"

"Oh, aye, Pet. But in a good way. Y'know, Val, I'm the luckiest chap alive." He squeezes her to him, twirling on the dance floor. She laughs again, the most beautiful sound in the world. He kisses her hair.

But it's _not_ her hair. It's not Val at all. And he's no longer the luckiest man alive.

* * *

Laura thinks about how nice this dance feels, how happy she is. At last, I'm in his arms. His hands are so soft on my back. _Did he just kiss my hair?_

But her thoughts are interrupted by a loud sniff. She realizes Lewis is shuddering. _He's sobbing_.

Lewis pulls back from her. "I'm sorry, Laura. I can't . . . I can't . . ." He weaves his way off the floor, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his nose and eyes. Laura has hooked her hand through his arm and so she is hauled along, off to a quiet corner.

He sits heavily in a chair, his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea I'd be feeling this way today. Dancing with you felt so nice. And I closed me eyes and then you were Val. I was dancing with Val. You smelt exactly like her, moved like her. But . . ."

He stands up. The sparkle has gone and his eyes are flat. "I need to make sure everything's going alright. I'm the host, here."

"Robbie."

He turns toward her and she enfolds him in her arms. One big squeeze, and she mouths "I love you" into his neck, but it is unlikely he hears her. She lets him go, adding, "You're doing fine, Robbie. Val would be proud of you today. You and Lyn, both."

His look softens a fraction. His eyes are dry. "You're a good friend, Laura. The best. I owe you a decent dance." Then he hurries off to check on how the party is going.

Laura winds her way back to where Hathaway is sitting, grabbing a flute of champagne on the way. Hathaway can see things have not gone well. The fact that she's returning to the table alone says enough.

"It's not a good day for him." Hobson swallows half the wine.

"Not a good day for _you_, I'd say, Doctor."

She narrows her eyes. "Don't try to cheer me up."

"No way. Cheer is overrated. And it's only temporary." Hathaway waves a waiter over and takes two more flutes, placing one in front of Hobson. "You've tried getting happy with Lewis. That failed. I suggest you try getting morose with me." He flashes an artificial grin. "I can almost guarantee success." He holds out his flute and they clink their classes together, then tip them up, and drain them.

* * *

Lewis's responsibilities as father of the bride motivate him to stay relatively sober all evening. By the time the party winds down and he's writing a small fortune in cheques, he spots two stragglers—Hathaway and Hobson—still at a table. Laura has her head on the table and Hathaway is staring at the wall as though it will start to spin if he takes his eyes off it.

Lewis strolls over. "Hathaway? You two look like you've had your share of my fizz."

"Sir? Why didn't I take your suggestion about getting a room here? I can't drive home and a taxi will cost a bundle, if one will even come all this way."

Laura lifts her head. Her eyes are unfocused. She groans, and lays her head back down.

Lewis can't hide his amusement. "I only have space for one of you in my room."

"Ken's not sharing with you?"

"Nah, they were out of twin rooms and neither of us wanted to share a bed. He's so tall he'd take up most of it." Lewis pauses. "You'd do the same, I expect."

"Divvn't fret, Robbie, man. He can kip in wor room. We have a sofa." Mack winks at Lewis. "You take the lass."

Lewis rolls his eyes. But he knows the small hotel has no more rooms—he's booked them all for the out-of-town guests. He has to concede that Mack's plan is the best option.

"Right. Mack, help James. Danny, I think I'm gonna need your help with her, or risk me back."

Lewis checks to be sure he's not needed any longer, and they all make their way up the staircase. He and Danny lay Laura on the bed and Lewis starts taking her shoes off. She is completely out by now.

Danny looks at him, a bit concerned. "Ya canna leave her sleep in that fancy frock."

"I know." He firms his mouth. He pulls out the grey tee shirt he had planned to sleep in. "I'll put her in this."

"Okay." Danny stands, expectantly.

"I'll take care of her meself, alright?" He glares. "She's in good hands, Danny, I won't touch her."

Danny smiles mischievously. "Maybe you should, Robbie. Maybe you should."

* * *

Laura stretches and squeezes her eyes more tightly shut. Her head is pounding. Oh, too much champagne! She can remember drinking glass after glass when it appeared that her companion for the evening would be James Hathaway. Not that she doesn't like James, only the evening hadn't gone how she'd hoped. It didn't help that he kept placing full glasses in front of her. She realizes how foolish she had been to create that little fantasy in which Lewis, overcome by his love for her, invites her to spend the night making passionate love to him. It's as if he can't see her that way at all. She sighs heavily, and her eyes flutter open. And grow very wide.

She does not recognize the room. She's lying on one side of a double bed; the other side is still warm. She presses her face against the other pillow, inhaling deeply. It smells like _him_. So does the tee-shirt she is wearing. _Where did she get that?_ It and her knickers are all she has on. She can see her dress hanging on a doorknob. It's a hotel room, she can tell that much. No one else can be seen in the room. The light is on in the bathroom and she hears the sound of running water.

She draws in a deep breath and takes a gamble, calling out. "Robbie?"

He pops his head around the bathroom door. His face is lathered on one side for shaving and he holds a soapy shaving brush in one hand and an open straight razor in the other. When he sees she's decently covered, he puts the things down in the bathroom and comes over to the bed. He's wearing striped pyjama bottoms and no shirt. It occurs to her that she's wearing it.

He looks at her with concern. "You feel alright, Laura? How's the head?"

She smiles grimly. "Not too bad, considering. I'm just relieved it's you that came out of the bathroom and not a total stranger."

"Ah. Sorry about the sleeping arrangements, but every bloody room is taken. No way could you and James make it home last night. And it seemed better that he be the one to kip with Danny and Mack."

She thinks about this, and smiles slightly. "So. Now I've slept with you."

He blushes. "Ah, well, it, erm . . . it wasn't like that, Laura. I mean, yeah, we slept in the same bed. But, erm . . . I didn't touch you. I _wouldn't_, not with you out cold like that."

She gives him a knowing look. "But you _did_ undress me, didn't you?"

He blushes more, if that's possible. "Ah, yeah, well, ya couldn't sleep in that lovely frock, could you?" He's avoiding her eyes. "You didn't have any kit, and all I had was me shirt." Then he looks at her earnestly, begging her to believe him. "I didn't touch you. Not like that."

Her relief is tempered by the irony she feels. She snorts a little. "No, of course you wouldn't, I know that." She checks the clock. "Well, I think I'm sober enough to drive, and I'm on call today so I'd better be on my way."

He's puzzling over her tone. _She's leaving, just like that?_ "There's breakfast downstairs if you want it."

"Thanks, Robbie. But I think I'll just go home. It was a lovely wedding." She takes a deep breath. Then she stands up, walks over to her dress, and in one fluid move peels off the shirt, tossing it to him. She makes no effort to conceal her body. _After all, he's already seen me_. She puts on her dress, picks up her shoes and bag, and walks over to stand in front of where he sits. His mouth has dropped open.

"Don't forget, you owe me a decent dance. Why don't you call me later?" She places her fingers under his lathered chin and shuts his mouth, drawing her thumb across his lips. Then she wipes off her soapy fingers on his belly, trailing them through his hair up to his chest. She smiles fetchingly, turns and goes out the door. Just before it closes behind her she hears him.

"_I will_."


End file.
